Ataraxia
by Hoodoo
Summary: Angsty Toad. Kinda. Come on, you know you love it!


Disclaimers: ****

Disclaimers: I don't own any recognizable characters. If I did, I wouldn't have to put up with driving to work at seven in the morning every day; I'd just live off royalties. In other words, please don't sue.

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Notes: Toad is a sympathetic character whether in the cartoon or the movie or the comic. It's just so easy to surround him with angst and pity/love him! This is my first Evolution fic. I've dabbled in Toad fic in the X-men (comic) section, but this particular musing seemed to only fit here.

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Enjoy!

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Ataraxia

Todd Tolansky kicked at the ground with a scuffed shoe.

So far today he'd escaped notice from the gang of popular, athletic jerks who spent half their time beating the hell out of him and the other half convincing the powers that be that they were fine upstanding teenagers.

_Why did the teachers always take their side?_

Todd shrugged half-heartedly to himself and took a bite of his sandwich. It was third period lunch. He had managed to find an unoccupied bench on a far corner of the campus to sit and watch the rest of the students. No one seemed to care he sat alone, or that he watched them, as long as his gaze didn't linger too long. A direct stare—even in simple curiosity—could mean trouble in the form of bruised ribs and bloody noses later.

_Creepy Todd the Toad was looking at me today! Teach him a lesson, Duncan!_

Todd sighed.

He almost took another bite, then paused. It was a tasteless sandwich, a cheap slice of luncheon meat walled in by two slices of even cheaper white bread.

_How can Freddy eat so much of this day after day?_

He sighed again and resigned himself to another mouthful. The dryness of it caught in his throat, and he dislodged the hunk with a swig of water. Then he sat still and watchful again.

He hated this place. Everyone else seemed so happy. The laughter, the camaraderie that everybody else shared pierced him sharply. He never told anyone how much it hurt; he even made it seem it didn't bother him at all. But it did . . ..

Todd considered skipping out on the rest of the day, then remembered Mystique's threat:

If you miss any more days, you're out of the house! I have to keep my position as principal, and I won't have it compromised by a failure like you! Do I make myself clear, Toad?

Intimidated by her words, he had promised not to ditch any more.

Considering again, he realized he would miss art class if he left now. And even though he would be loath to admit it aloud, Todd enjoyed that one class. Art didn't have the rules and restrictions forced on him in other classes—no theories to memorize, no proper grammar to use, no dates and names to remember. Just paint and canvas and his own mind.

Miss Harris, the instructor, had spoken with him after class, and suggested he enter one or two of his paintings in the student art fair. But Todd, unaccustomed to individual, kind attention, mumbled a weak objection and scurried from the classroom.

I couldn't do something like that. I'm too stupid and ugly and so are all the things I've painted. There's no way.

He dug into the dirt with his toe again, feeling sorry for himself.

Movement at the corner of his eye caught his attention and made him glance back up.

A small dog trotted to him. Its ears pricked as it came closer, causing worried-looking wrinkles to form on its forehead. In contrast to its dark red coat, it had dainty white feet and a white-tipped tail that curled tightly over its hip.

It sat smartly in front of Todd.

"You're a funny little dog," he said out loud.

The dog cocked its head.

That cracked a quick smile on Todd's face.

"What are you doing here, dog? You aren't allowed to be on the school grounds. You better get before someone tries to kick you around because you don't belong here."

The dog cocked its head the other direction.

"You're probably hungry. Well here. It isn't great, but you can have this sorry excuse for a sandwich."

Todd offered his half-eaten lunch to the dog. It was sniffed politely, then taken from his hands and wolfed down. The sight made Todd smile again. When the dog looked back up, he remarked,

"Now you're probably thirsty."

Cupping one hand, he poured some water into his palm. The dog lapped it up and licked his hand dry. Its tongue had the feel of hot, wet velvet.

Todd gave the dog a quick pat on the head. The fur was soft and smooth.

Again he asked, "What are you doing here? There's lots more kids here with better lunches than me. Go on, go beg from them."

But the dog only sat beside him. He continued to stroke its head. Its quiet presence made him actually feel contented and even a little favored. Todd's spirits perked up.

Out of all the people here this dog came to me! Me!

Too soon, the bell rang.

"Gotta go, dog. Can't miss class, you know?"

The little dog allowed him to scratch under its chin before he got up and made his way to the building. When Todd glanced back, the dog was trotting off, the bright tip of it's tail bouncing with each step.

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In art class Todd's painting was one of a shining red dog with a curly tail. It was a bit abstract, and quite different than any others he had done. When the teacher commented on it, and how nice it would look in the art fair, Todd was able to flash her a quick smile and agree.

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dedicated to Bolt, Rocky, Bela and Oz; my own bright tipped inspirations.


End file.
